


At Least Victor Tried

by ZuzuSara



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxious Katsuki Yuuri, Blushing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Holding Hands, M/M, Missing Scene, Napping, Nervous Katsuki Yuuri, One Shot, POV Katsuki Yuuri, Pre-performance anxiety, Read to find out!, Sexual Tension, Sleepy Katsuki Yuuri, Tired Katsuki Yuuri, Tired but can't sleep, Undressing, Unintentional Hand Holding, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Victor just doesn't understand, Y'Know?, Yaoi, Yaoi on Ice, Yuri!!! on Ice episode 7 - Yuuri and Victor finally sleep together, Yuuri has a bit of a dirty mind, accidental hand holding, but how do you hold hands accidentally???, hand holding, playing with hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 04:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11395251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZuzuSara/pseuds/ZuzuSara
Summary: A (sorta) short fic of Yuri Katsuki's perspective from "Yuri, you haven't slept, have you?" to his failed attempt at a nap, no cuts!Yuuri and Victor are just really fuckin bashfully affectionate with each other.





	At Least Victor Tried

Victor seems to be examining me. My face, that is, and probably taking notice of the dark circles that I assume are under my eyes. I smile to reassure him, but it feels a bit forced as I try to look better than I honestly feel.

“Yuri, you haven’t slept, have you?” He says knowingly. Jeez, can he tell _that_ easily?

“I-I-I did! A little bit, anyway.” I stammer and respond too quickly and loudly to sound believable. Victor regards me disappointedly- as if it’s _my_ fault I wasn’t able to fall sleep until much later than acceptable for the night before a competition, and then takes me by the hand to begin leading us somewhere away from the rink.

“V-Victor, where are we going?” I ask him, my hand loose in his from surprise and attention only focused on keeping up with his stride.

“To the hotel.” He replies.

“What?! But the Freeskate is in less than an hour!” I grasp Victor’s hand tightly and try to pull him to a stop, but he only continues to trudge along.

“Don’t worry, we have lots of time.” He says optimistically.

My mind- unwarranted and immediately- thinks up what’s probably the most unrealistic as well as quite indecent idea to what he’s talking about. I blush while squashing the absurd thought down, glad Victor can’t see me at the moment, and ask, “Time for what…?”

“Rest of course!” He briefly turns his head around to smile at me, and then uses his unoccupied hand to push one of the double doors to the entrance and exit of the rink open. I didn’t realize how far we had walked, and as we emerge out into the city bustling with people and traffic, I know that logically, I should just go along with it to make Victor’s job easier. It’s an incredibly short walk to the hotel from the rink (I can even see the building from here), so arguing now would hardly be worth it, but my stubbornness isn’t the only thing that makes me try to change his mind about this anyway.

“Victor, I can’t possibly sleep in this state!” I’m pretty sure that what I tell him is true; I would _love_ to catch up on at least a bit of the sleep I missed out on last night, but I know that it’ll be a pointless attempt, judging by all the excited and worried thoughts in my head. Those are what kept me up last night, and they hadn’t exactly gone away yet.

“You mean the state in which you can barely keep your eyes open?” Victor teases as we stop walking at the edge of the sidewalk and wait for the light to change. We stand side-by-side now, and I pretend not to be aware of the fact that my hand still has a loose grip on Victor’s, and that I don’t really plan on changing that.

I purposely stare straight ahead, my cheeks feeling a bit warm, and sigh. How am I supposed to explain to Victor the emotional state I’m in right now? Yes, I’m tired, but my mind is restless. Yes, I’m fatigued, but my thoughts are practically buzzing. Yes, I need to sleep (and oh man, do I want to), but my expectations of myself for the Cup of China Freeskate just won’t shut up and let me. They barely let me rest last night, and it doesn’t seem like it’ll be any different now. How can I put into words how I’m feeling that will make sense to Victor, whom I hardly expect to have ever been in this situation- sleepy, but too filled with pre-performance anxiety to actually doze off?

“No! I mean- well, yeah, but I’m not _mentally_ tired enough to sleep. It’s like last night, I was thinking too much about today’s competition to get to bed on time and no matter how hard I tried, I just ended up staring at the ceiling or walls for hours. And I feel like that’s what’s going to happen now if you try to make me nap because I’ll just be _thinking_ non-stop _as well as_ worrying about being late now that we’re going _back to the hotel_ …” The crosslight changes in favour of Victor and I and the other pedestrians going in the same direction, so Victor resumes somewhat-pulling me along across the street while I continue babbling aimlessly.

All the way to the hotel actually, I talk. I try to explain the uncomfortable mix of restlessness and fatigue I feel and how my thoughts are responsible for that- like they were last night, and how my mind and body may as well not be connected, as they’re acting completely different from each other. Even though we only get closer to the hotel and further from the rink, and I’m pretty sure Victor doesn’t listen to me- or even if he does, he probably doesn’t understand the disorganized jumble of words that spill from my mouth- I still have the one-sided conversation. I’m trying to understand how I feel, myself, while I talk to Victor, so there’s no particular order to what I ponder out-loud and I’m sure I repeat the same thing a few times. Discussing how I’ve been since yesterday evening eventually becomes more about relieving some of my nervous energy than attempting to coherently help Victor understand the ‘state I’m it’. And honestly, it also keeps me from having to make a decision as to whether I should let go or keep holding onto his gloved hand- my reflex is to tighten my grip, but then I’m too scared to. It’s strange and frustrating how I want to get closer as well as run away from him- no, I _want_ to stay close to him, but the running away part is more of an impulse, another annoying part of me I have yet to understand. Although it’s gotten better over the time that I’ve had with Victor to get to know him as _Victor,_ not _Victor Nikiforov: skating legend_ \- he will always seem like a dream too good to be true, that still manages to intimidate me a bit.

I almost mention my indecisiveness of what to do around Victor, _to_ Victor, when my mind drifts to that certain conundrum, since I had gotten used to practically dumping out the contents of my mind to him for the past couple of minutes. I catch myself though, losing my train of thought and stammering for a moment with warm cheeks as I try to remember what I was originally talking about. Victor turns his head and gives me a questioning look, asking if I’m alright while he holds the door to the hotel’s building open. I nod my head sharply, and with that, we go inside (Victor still leading me by the hand).

We pass through the lobby furnished with a couple of comfortable-looking but empty flowery upholstered couches and a dark wooden coffee table, to the pair of shiny silver elevators. Victor presses the button with the arrow pointing up (the only button available on the main floor), lighting it up in a dull yellow colour, and we wait in silence for one of the lifts to arrive. Oh yeah, I guess I slowly sort of subconsciously stopped trying to pick up on where I left off in my rant, so now the only sound around us is a soft, ambient tune and the receptionist scribbling away on paper. Victor and I are still holding hands.

Within a few seconds, the button’s light turns off and the elevator to our left arrives. Victor leads us into it, then presses and lights up the button with the number 5 on it. The doors slide shut to meet in the middle, and the lift lurches slightly as it begins its journey up, and there’s no more background music.

And Victor and I are still holding hands.

My eyes drift down to look at the linked space between us, and I feel myself blush a bit as my voice sounds awkward in the practically _absolute_ silence, but probably not more awkward than the practically _absolute_ silence.

“Victor, why are you still holding my hand?” It had started out as a way to easily get me to follow him away from the rink, so he doesn’t really think I’ll go all the way back to it at this point, does he?

“If you don’t like it, just let go.” My eyes look back up at the sound of his voice, and I meet his warm gaze as he smiles expectantly at me. Not an all-knowing expression though, since I think I can see a hint of doubt or worry in it.

And oh yeah, I’m holding his hand back. Just barely, but I am. And I guess it’s enough for Victor to feel. Also, I hadn’t even noticed that Victor’s hand wasn’t grasping mine so tightly anymore. Near the beginning of our walk, he had almost been dragging me along after him, but later on, that had eventually lessened to become more like leading. I noticed, but I suppose I just didn’t think about it?

Not really needing to, I don’t say anything and instead just turn to face forward again, mentally willing my cheeks to cool down. And I don’t let go.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Victor face forward too, and then I feel him give a small squeeze to our joined hands.

Mentally willing my cheeks to cool down is just about as hard as willing anxious thoughts to go away so I can sleep.

When the elevator slows to a stop and its doors open again, Victor leads us out onto the 5th floor. But then, he ends up walking right beside me down the carpeted hallway. So now we’re just holding hands for the sake of it.

With cheeks still warm, my gaze remains on my feet, following the patterned dots on the floor. I don’t even realize that a slight smile is playing on my mouth until I hear Victor give a short exhale of a laugh from beside me, making me look up at him, wondering what’s funny. But then I see that he’s smiling at _me,_ blue-green sea coloured eyes glinting with intrigue, and a light dusting of pink on his cheeks. I abruptly look back down again and try to straighten my face, but it’s no use as my reaction only makes Victor give another small laugh and then rub his thumb affectionately over mine.

Then we’re in front of our room, and Victor has to let go of my hand to get his key out of his pocket and unlock the door. My hand instantly feels empty and awkward by itself, so I start tapping the fingers against the side of my leg while I wait.

Once we get inside, we both proceed to take our shoes and outerwear off. I try not to pay too much attention to Victor pulling his gloves off- to reveal the skin underneath that I would’ve preferred to hold instead-, and the way he- casually yet elegantly- unwraps the scarf from around his neck. My attempt to not intently watch him undress doesn’t completely fail, but my eyes also can’t help glancing back and forth between him and my hands unzipping my jacket. Luckily though, he doesn’t seem to notice.

I’m already in my t-shirt when Victor begins to remove his grey coat as well, so I’m not entirely sure what to do other than kind of stand around and watch him do so. I can’t help but focus on how he seems to shrug the coat off just as gracefully as he skates, and how the black button-up dress shirt underneath looks sharp and endearing with his pale skin and silver hair- it feels both calming and exciting to watch him slowly take layer after layer of clothing articles off and-

…And wow, I really need to stop watching and thinking about this. Usually I have much more control over these types of observations and thoughts, but I suppose I’m simply too tired today to try and restrain the endless energy of my mind.

“Well Yuri, what are you waiting for?”

My eyes snap up to meet Victor’s from where they had been staring perhaps a beat too long at the place where the collar of his shirt becomes the skin at the base of his neck, and I find him regarding me somewhat amusedly, finished undressing- it looks like.

“Huh?” I almost jump from unexpectedly being pulled out of my trance, _by_ the person my trance was pretty much centered around.

“The Freeskate is in less than an hour, right? Don’t want to waste time! Come on.” Victor speaks cheerfully and then places his hand on my upper arm to steer me towards my bed, and once we arrive at the foot of the mattress after a few steps, I can still almost feel his touch even though it’s no longer there.

“Okay, off with the clothes.” He says casually.

“W-what?” My thoughts really aren’t ceasing to venture to the wrong places of my mind recently, especially now- when Victor says _that_ in front of a _bed._

“Well you can’t exactly sleep in your training outfit, can you?”

 _He's right about that..._ Before I start overthinking and become all awkward about it, I begin to do as he says- distracting myself by talking uselessly and exasperatedly and trying to ignore the fact that he doesn’t bother to turn around while I undress.

“Victor, were you listening to anything I said on our way here? I already told you-“ Socks off and dropped onto the floor, now the shirt. “…My brain is too preoccupied for me to sleep. I know you’ve probably never had performance anxiety before but-“ Bare chest, now the pants. “…Is it really that difficult to understand that I just can’t get relaxed enough, no matter how hard I try?” Now I’m stood in front of him in just my boxers. I can feel myself blushing, but I force myself to look back at him- an inch or two above my eye level- with an annoyed expression. He still has that small hint of amusement in his eyes and smirk, but his focus seems to be wavering slightly- as if he’s distracted? It’s not really surprising, knowing Victor, and he wasn’t responding to my arguments earlier- why should he now?

“You tried and failed to sleep last night, but you haven’t today yet. So try again.” He says with a smile before wandering off somewhere.

Oh, so he _was_ listening to at least a bit of what I was saying during our walk to the hotel- since he knows what kept me up last night. But still, he can’t really expect it to be _that_ easy or any different this time around, can he? Also…

“What are you doing?” I ask while he rummages through one of the many suitcases he packed, by his own bed. He doesn’t answer, but when he finally stands up and turns around to walk back to me, I whine- annoyed again- at what I see him holding.

“Oh, come _on_. Those things don’t work- hey!” Victor puts the sleeping mask on me before I have the chance to bat his hands away or something, and my vision is suddenly black, whether I close my eyes or not.

“You ‘come on’. Stop being so stubborn.” I hear Victor say in a half-annoyed, half-teasing way, right before I feel his warm hands against my chest push me backwards. I give a tiny squeal in shock and fear, but then sigh in relief when my back hits the soft mattress that I forgot was right behind me. It’s a shaky sigh though, as I can’t help being pleasantly surprised by the tone of his voice accompanying the suggestive action in my nearly naked, blindfolded state. _Damnit, Victor. Why do you always have to do things to me?_

Before I’m able to recover and say something in return, I feel a breeze above my body, followed by- oh, a blanket- being draped over it. Victor really _is_ making an effort to get me in the best possible situation for a nap, and I feel kind of bad knowing that all his sweetness will be for nothing; despite being pretty comfortable physically, the excitement of my head still hasn’t been discouraged even a bit.

I hear some movement to my left, and then a hand pats my stomach- verging on my hip, a couple times before I hear Victor’s voice next to me (his hand still lightly placed on my blanketed form): “Nap until this evening’s event starts.” _Pfft_. Sure, Victor.

“It’ll be fine. I always slept in until the last minute before competitions, too.” His voice seems to trail off slowly and softly, making me wonder if he’s going to go ahead and fall asleep, himself. And if so, why didn’t he think to push his bed next to mine? Is he going to doze off on the floor, then? That would be funny and Instagram-worthy.

Nope, apparently not the floor. _Me_.

I hear, then _feel_ Victor shift to lie _on top of me,_ arms holding my torso, legs wrapped around my own, and head turned to rest against my chest.

“Victor! Did you set an alarm?!” I ask, definitely louder and more distressed-sounding than necessary for a simple question like that. One part of me asks it because I actually want to know, but a much larger part of me bursts out likeso due to the sudden mixed feelings of giddiness and tension and overall _surprise_ I just _have_ to express somehow at having Victor literally _lying on top of me_. It’s not like we haven’t had bodily contact before, but this is unexpected and likely to last longer than a hug, judging by Victor’s lack of any indication that he’s going to move, or answer my question, either. Is he actually going to fall asleep, just like that?

I can feel his heartbeat, the rise and fall of his chest while he breathes, a few strands of his bound-to-be incredibly-soft-thanks-to-half-a-dozen-different-products hair tickling my chin, and the fact that he’s not just sprawled over me- but holding on as well.

This is Victor’s chosen sleeping position. On top of me. Holding me.

Oh my god, Victor’s cuddling me.

My mind does double- no, make that quadruple-takes, making sure that what I’m feeling is real, while my fists clench by my sides below the blanket and I breathe shallowly in my rather rigid state. This is all making me both incredibly nervous and awfully flustered, so if Victor thought this would help me relax… well, he definitely wasn’t _right_.

This is overwhelming, confusing, exciting, ridiculous, disquieting, unreal…

This is…

…Well, pretty nice, actually.

I can feel the constant thump of his heart and the even pattern of his breathing, the teasing and light brushes of his hair under my chin, his limbs gently straddling me. This is _Victor’s_ heartbeat and breath and cologne and natural scent and hair and body, that I’m close enough to feel, hear, and smell.

Again: physically relaxing, but not mentally.

Partly because I want to make sure, _again_ , that this isn’t some sort of dream I’m having while miraculously having fallen asleep at some point, and partly because I want Victor in more of my senses, I inconspicuously inch one of my hands out from under the blanket, and then use it to push the stupid sleep mask up, letting myself see. I tilt my head down a bit, and can’t really tell if my heart melts or flutters at this sight: Victor, in his black dress pants and shirt, draped casually- yet making an effort to stay in position- over me, is sleeping soundly. He looks gorgeous and pretty as ever, but also disorganized in an adorable, funny, and almost alluring way. All I honestly feel like doing is running my fingers through that bound-to-be-really-super-soft hair, but I don’t want to wake him up…

Oh, whatever. I can run my fingers through it once, just to find out if it really is as soft as it looks.

After repeating the process of subtly bringing my other hand out from under the blanket, I reach forward and very slowly and very lightly, pick up a bit of his silver hair to feel.

_Oh man, that’s soft._

When Victor doesn’t respond to what I do, I dare to run my fingers softly through the strands instead. It’s such a pleasing sensation, that I feel the corner of my mouth quirk up a little bit, until Victor moans quietly and shifts. I instantly still my hands and hold my breath, eyes wide.

But, all he seems to do is nuzzle into my chest and hold me tighter, before relaxing once again with a sigh. I release my breath and tension slowly before continuing where I left off, because that was a good reaction, right?

Looking up at the ceiling, one of my hands combs through Victor’s heavenly-soft hair while I let the other drift down to rest on his back to begin lightly tracing circles over the fabric of his shirt. Victor’s muffled hum makes me look down and my movements hesitate again, but after a moment in which I realize it sounded like a _happy_ hum, I don’t bother worrying about what I’m doing anymore. I just stare up at the ceiling wide awake, using my hands again to silently return Victor’s affection, while he snuggles into me blissfully.

I don’t sleep, as expected, but at least I get something- although _not_ expected- probably just as nice out of our trip back to the hotel.

And at least Victor _tried_ to get me to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all liked:)  
> Feedback appreciated! Or any comments really, I love 'em!


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